


Pining

by theamberissubtle



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Korrasami - Freeform, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamberissubtle/pseuds/theamberissubtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long, arduous journey, Korra returns to Republic City. Upon seeing Asami, something clicks: she'd been pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pining

She’s nothing like she used to be.

Maybe that’s a redundant thing to say considering she’s hardly the first person to notice a shift in perspective over a course of time, but to Korra there’s a clear distinction as to when it began to happen: pre-Zaheer and post-Zaheer. Though she avoids using his name, even in her own mind, her every nerve is aware of his long-gone presence to the point where she questions whether his ghost has taken refuge in the emptiness where the avatar state should be. But she doesn’t voice that thought aloud. She also doesn’t tell anybody how she stares into the bright, inhuman eyes of her former self; that it follows her wherever she goes, gazing back from mirrors, from corners; that her own face haunts her dreams.

Removing herself from Republic City to heal wasn’t a conscious decision exactly. Undoubtedly broken, in body and in spirit, the aftermath had fallen to those around her. It was an unspoken, unanimous consensus: she needed to leave. In other words, she had no place rebuilding society if she couldn’t manage to rebuild herself.

Her family had been thrilled to have her back, which made it seem less like exile. Even if she couldn’t hold a conversation to save her life, or keep eye contact, and even if she did spend an inordinate amount of time staring into the walls of her room and avoiding meals, her parents’ support did not waver. Rationally (and the voice that prodded at her sounded remarkably like Tenzin’s), she knew the shame and guilt she felt wasn’t entirely warranted, but it didn’t stop the darker thoughts. If you’re not the avatar, that darkness probed, then what are you?

The questions thereafter were endless: If she couldn’t control the elements, then what use did she have? How could she restore balance to the world if she couldn’t even balance on her own two feet? If people thought her useless before, what on earth must they think of her now? The world was broken, now worse than ever, and it was her duty as the avatar to continuously put it back together.

Regardless of her good intentions, though, her victories had always been met with distrust and dislike, and her failures gloated over. Some people wished for her defeat just so they had the pleasure of telling her so. Despite her flickering social image, Korra worked tirelessly and endlessly for what she believed was the greater good. Being the Avatar wasn’t exactly a blessing, but she’d always known it was her responsibility to help restore balance however she could, and without the leverage her avatar status offered, she felt powerless.

When Katara started her healing process, her mood lifted, the promise of returning to her original state the motivation she clearly needed. However she soon discovered what a dangerous and fickle thing hope truly was, and she left her birthplace soon after to forget how to feel at all. Her thoughts and moods might be precarious, but she was certain of one thing: she had to keep moving. For a while, it worked. Trekking through the world’s terrains kept her mind numb and body moving. It was harder to succumb to nightmares when deep, bone-weary tiredness caused her brain to switch off at night, like it was being unplugged.

When she needed money, she found underground bending. It was simple: sign a waver, cash in hand, no questions asked. During those times it was like she was in the audience, watching someone who looked remarkably like her struggling to lift rocks to haul at some competitor, or summon wisps of fire, or trickles of water, or small bursts of air. Bruised and sore, sometimes victorious, sometimes not, she continued to make her way through big cities or smaller, deserted towns on the edges of nowhere. Whatever the case, those towns and cities all blurred together. She began to realise what a dark place the world was, and felt foolish to remember she’d once thought a positive attitude was all she’d needed to fix it. Maybe that was post-Zaheer cynical Korra, but maybe that was the truth.

The only flickers of light were the letters she wrote to Asami. Somehow, when she felt dangerously close to unravelling, the pen rose as if of its own accord and scribbled down the words she couldn’t let herself think. In taverns, in caves, in the footholds of trees, mountains, she scribbled furiously. The process unburdened her for a short while. It helped to become rooted in reality again, to become something other than Survivor Korra versus Human Korra. Those two parts of her couldn’t co-exist peacefully: if she let herself feel human, the acknowledgment of her flaws, the weight of her current shortcomings, would paralyse her to the point of insanity, but if she left herself be guided by nothing but her instincts, removed from all those emotions, then what would ever stop her from emerging from the snow-capped mountains, or grassy wastelands, or searing desserts? Surely there was a point to all this.

But that was the worst of it all: believing that whatever was happening to her was temporary, and the people who cared for her were right - that it would all be okay. Really, what happened then? If she were okay, how could she ever begin to resume the role of avatar again? Perhaps she’d reached a stage of unbelievable indifference, or unbelievable desperation, but she revealed those parts of herself to Asami.

* * *

 

 

Then something did change. In the spirit world, she felt a pull. No longer bound by worldly tethers, she found it futile to resist its energy, and wondered whether Raava was out there, somewhere, taking pity on her at last, but instead, at the foothold of that sacred space, was another being altogether: the small, rabbit-shaped spirit she’d encountered before. It was the first real conversation she’d had in weeks. Thrown by the experience, she accepted its instruction with little to no resistance. What did she have to lose anyway?

That little sprite took her to a forest, where she soon found herself at the entrance to an unfamiliar cave buried deep in the swamp. For the first time in months, her heartbeat quickened. More than anything, it was that which startled her. The last time such a thing had happened was before she left Republic City, when Asami, who had just released her from a gentle (but nonetheless impassioned) hug offered to go with her to the Southern Water Tribe.

When she stumbled upon Toph, it was the closest thing to joy she’d felt in a long time.

The healing process was arduous. She didn’t know how long they spent in the cave. It could have been days, or months. Time was no longer chronological. It was interweaving memories of childhood; of first encountering Republic City, of meeting Mako and Bolyn; of the ways they fell apart and the better ways they were put back together; of Asami and their unexpected friendship and the sharp pang it now caused in her chest whenever she thought of their last meeting; of her parents’ love and Katara’s wisdom and the beautiful, icy plains of home; of Tenzin’s loyalty and determination and his wonderful family and the new air benders.

After a while, she realised that the memories that haunted her here were filled with a sad longing. She missed them. She’d done good by some people. Maybe even a lot of people. Those who stand for nothing make no enemies, Tenzin’s voice reminded her, but they don’t change anything, either.

Korra realised she’d rather be one of those people who tried and tried again, even if the world was a hopeless place.

* * *

 

Toph made her train. She made her meditate, even when she snorted about how airy-fairy airbender the whole practise was. She taught her to listen to the earth. Slowly, but steadily, her body and spirit began to mend. The way Toph talked – abrupt and blunt, giving her the tough love she needed - gave her purpose. She was getting better without realising it.

“I think it’s time you left, Twinkle-toes,” she announced days or weeks later, lying in her hammock and slurping her ginseng tea.

Reflexively, Korra bolted upright from her own hammock, and blurted out, “I’m not ready.”

“Nonsense.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“Toph-”

“No.”

The next day, Korra began the journey home.

* * *

 

Needless to say, she received an earful from her parents, then a hug, then another lecture, and finally a warning not to ever, under any circumstances, wander across the world without telling anybody. With surprising ease, Korra promised, holding them tight in return. Upon greeting Katara, she leaned into the older woman’s ear and whispered, “You never told me Avatar Aaang had Twinkle-toes.” When she pulled back, she was met with tears and a knowing smile.

This time she really did go to Republic City. She’d first sent a letter to Tenzin, informing him and his family of her arrival. He’d gotten word to her immediately and all but forced her to stay with him and his family whilst she become integrated back into the city. Then she’d messaged Asami, regaling a little of her travels, apologising prematurely for her tentative truths.

She hadn’t returned to her avatar state. Instead what she’d realised throughout these past few years was that the avatar state was a state of mind. The avatar was a symbol – of hope and truth and balance. It was her duty to project that image to the world. What is more, she had to believe it, to endorse it; to be that positive energy. Besides, the avatar’s power was more than physical. Zaheer’s face wasn’t the only thing she saw at night. When she looked into the mirror, her own former reflection wasn’t staring back at her with bright, soulless eyes.

* * *

 

They were all waiting at the dock for her: Tenzin and his entire family, Mako and Bolin, Suyin and Lin, Asami. It was truly a homecoming. Mako, who was standing directly in front of her as she descended the walkway, made the first move to greet her. That was surprising. The Mako she’d once known had been awkward about initiating contact, even when they’d been dating, but time changed people, as she could testify. The embrace was tight, forgiving, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders at the acceptance. They were older, wiser. Their relationship felt like a pleasant memory of things that weren’t meant to be – had they even been that young? - and the hug felt like closure.

Next was Bolin, who joined the hug before Mako could let go. She felt him sniffling into her hair, which she couldn’t even make fun of – her own tears were causing a lump in her throat. These were her boys.

The next person was Asami. She was standing there, smiling softly, taking her in. Her hair was longer than Korra remembered and a little windswept from the weather. A dark, fitted coat wrapped around her slender figure, and her arms were folded against the cold air. She was beautiful, and elegant; a graceful shadow beneath the darkening skies. Seeing her there would be an image etched into her brain for as long as she lived.

Before Korra could process it, she’d enveloped her in a hug that made them both stumble. The only thought that registered amidst a smell of familiar perfume and the feel of soft skin was she was right there, and real.

“I like your hair,” Asami murmured, pulling back and running a hand through the short, choppier tendrils.

Korra tried to reply that she liked hers, too, that it was still unfairly glossy and soft, but her eyes had fallen shut at the contact, and her mouth had dried shut. Her hands rested on Asami’s forearms, anchoring her to the world. “You’re real,” she settled for, willing her eyes open, to feel with every sense she had.

Asami smiled in understanding. Instead of questioning, or demanding answers, she let Korra have her moment. “You’re here,” she eventually said, but it wasn’t accusatory. Korra knew that Asami got it – why Korra left in the first place, and why she’d come back. Why she wouldn’t leave again.

In a daze, she finished greeting the rest of them. She allowed Ikki to hold her hand and guide her to the air temple whilst Meelo talked her ear off, Jinora bringing up the rear with the air of a long-suffering older sibling, side-eyeing Korra with silent apology at the enthusiasm of her brother and sister. She laughed when Korra slung her free arm around her shoulder.

“Your hair grew,” she smiled.

“Yours didn’t,” Jinora grinned.

It occured to her that all she’d noticed – and commented on – was people’s hair. It seemed to be synonymous with the lapsing of time, an easy way to acknowledge the years between them.

The table had been set for dinner and she’d been given the honoured position at the top, overlooking everyone. They all couldn’t stop smiling at her. She couldn’t she stop smiling at them, either. Tenzin sat to her left; Asami to her right. Suyin and Lin sat next to one another at the other end. Opal was curled into Bolin’s side. It struck her that these people were her family. If her parents and Katara and Toph were here, everyone she cared about would be in one room.

There was a short toast about new beginnings and friendship and the future before the feast began. The conversation all around was deliberately light. She tried to be involved with everyone at once, and somehow eat, and still regale some of her less tragic anecdotes, but what she was most aware of - and what clouded her mind to the point where she couldn’t focus at all - was Asami’s hand on her arm.

The other girl kept it there for a while, or continuously put it back after a second of gesticulating in her own conversation with Pema, and Korra felt it to the tips of her toes. It wouldn’t surprise her if she were bright red. It was innocent and she recognised it for what it was: Asami was making sure Korra was real. More than anything, Korra understood that notion, but it didn’t stop the contact from aching. That ache, so specific and familiar, had once comforted her troubled mind during those harder, darker nights. Soon after she associated that ache with peace and hope from her convalescence in the swamp. Now, however, there was something else mixed into it, something else she couldn’t find a name for. Whatever that something was, it made her cheeks burn.

That’s why it took a moment for her to realise that Bolin had slapped a hand to his mouth, glancing between her and Mako and saying, “Sorry, sorry, I know you were sensitive about Korra knowing you’d gotten a girlfriend-” Korra couldn’t help but laugh at Bolin’s sheepishness and Mako’s grimace.

“Seriously? It’s been three years.” Honestly, boys were so ridiculous sometimes. She tried to joke, “As long as we’re not re-living three years ago and it’s Asami then-” But she didn’t know the end of that sentence. Just thinking of that possibility made her stomach clench unpleasantly, and Asami’s hand suddenly felt very warm. She heard the other girl chuckle as though from underwater.

“No, thank you. That’s in the very distant past.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Mako replied.

“Yeah,” Bolin snorted. “Asami is kind of married to the single life.” Opal slapped his arm. “What?” he laughed, delighted at his own joke. “It’s true! Right, ‘Sami?”

The hand left Korra’s arm. She waved it in the air in a nondescript fashion. Meanwhile, Korra felt like she was furtively observing the whole exchange, still feeling strangely warm. “I’ve been working,” she started to say, and Jinora turned to them all with a huff and stated, “You don’t need a relationship to define yourself. Asami has done a great deal without a guy around. Or a girl,” she checked herself, and Korra realised she was sweating.

 _Girl_.

Asami grinned at her in thanks, and she rested her hand back on the table, dangerously close to Korra’s arm. She couldn’t bear to look at any of them. Her heart was beating fast and hard; her stomach was clenching.

 _Girl_.

She tried to let it wash over her and simultaneously push it away. Because it made sense. In the far recesses of her brain, that confusing all-consuming ache that she’d felt before ever leaving Republic City made sense. It suddenly had a name. Unwelcome, unbidden, she tried to push it away but -

She shouldn’t have to push it away.

She didn’t want to. If these were her feelings, so be it. She didn’t have to explain herself. It didn’t have to be a crazy, life-altering recognition. She’d just returned after years of soul-searching, so discovering something about herself that made the confusion and anxiety melt away could not be a bad thing. It was all about perspective, she realised. This could destroy her, or it could serve to enlighten. She would choose to be optimistic. Toph had said that her brain was her biggest enemy or her biggest ally. Besides, she didn’t know exactly what it meant, and she was reluctant to label anything. But there was no denying the attraction, the pull she left – and had felt – for the longest of times.

Later that night, once dinner was over and everyone had left, she stared out across the water and into Republic City. She’d done this many times before. Its lights and buildings and noises felt like home. It had been a long journey, mentally and physically, but she was there now, on the verge of something new. She was going to shape the future of this place, and she was going to shape her own life in the process.

That night she dreamt of Asami’s hands, Jinora’s echo of ‘ _or girls_ ’ running through her mind.

* * *

 

It was strange waking up in bed with a face full of sunlight. She’d gotten used to sleeping on a hammock in Toph’s cave and thinking it was perpetual night. Surprisingly, her sleep had been restful. Her dreams were still on the tips of her consciousness, but she couldn’t quite remember the details; all she knew was she’d woken up anticipating something. Whether that was good or bad, she couldn’t tell.

Apparently most of last night’s dinner crowd had left long before sunrise, fulfilling their obligations to the city: Lin had a department to run, helped by Suyin and Mako, whilst Bolin had Kuvira to report to, and Asami … was right there in the dining room where they’d eaten dinner, looking the very picture of elegance in her robe, her glossy hair cascading down her back, sipping her coffee – black – and reading the day’s news. It was a sight to behold, and a little confusing. It was so heart-wrenchingly normal and domestic and wonderful.

Conscious of her bed-head and oversized sleepwear, Korra walked into the room almost shiftily. “Hey,” she greeted cautiously, like she were witnessing an apparition.

“Hey,” Asami responded brightly. “Would you like some coffee?”

She nodded automatically. The smell was undeniably alluring. She sat on the chair across from her, eyebrows crinkled. Her stomach was tensed. It was like she was remembering something from her dream; it gave her the same anticipatory feeling.

“Here.” Asami pushed the cup towards her. “It’s good. I made it myself.” She did a little half-smirk that made Korra’s heart flip-flop. “How’d you sleep?” she inquired the very second Korra asked, “Why are you here?” then winced because tact, please. “I mean,” she stumbled, “I’m happy to see you, really happy, but I thought you’d have stuff to get back to.”

“I do,” Asami assured her. “But I wanted to see you.”

Korra could feel the blush to the tips of her ears. “I …I slept well, thanks,” she settled for, taking a big gulp of coffee. “You?”

“Better,” she answered cryptically.

They sat in comfortable silence as they sipped their coffee. Out of the corner of her eye, Asami looked the picture of calm, but Korra – thanks in large part to Toph – was able to sense her surroundings in a way she’d never been able to, and she could feel the tension vibrating from the other girl’s skin, along with a twitch in her leg as she tried to cross her legs nonchalantly. It gave her pause. Taking advantage of the silence, she tried to organise her thoughts.

Asami had always been undeniably beautiful. She’d known that like she’d known how to earth bend. But she was a good person, too. Something had changed, as it was wont to do after three years. She’d wrote her. It was Asami’s face she’d pictured in times of woe. It was Asami she hadn’t been able to hold back from at the dock, and it was Asami’s presence she was most conscious of in a room filled with her favourite people. Now she was here when everyone else had left to attend to business, even though she had responsibilities of her own.

“Korra-”

“Asami-”

“Sorry, you go first.”

Korra tried not to fidget. “Okay.”

It wasn’t that easy, however. Words were rather difficult. Maybe she could use the excuse that she’d been travelling and she’d forgotten how to interact like an actual human being. Clinging to that idea in her panic, she opened her mouth to blurt it out, but Asami smiled unexpectedly, shaking her head as though in disbelief.

“What?”

“Because this should be strange, and it isn’t.” She motioned between them. “I’ve spent the past three years picturing what it would be like to see you again, what it would feel like, wondering if we would even know one another, how we could begin to learn one another again, but sitting here with you feels so natural. Like … the years have been filled in. Does that sound crazy?”

“No,” Korra breathed, feeling dizzy. “It makes perfect sense.”

“I’m glad. I’ve thought I was going crazy for a long time now.” “Yeah, I know what that’s like,” she chuckled, but it was a sad chuckle and they both knew it.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

The sound of her own heartbeat was deafening, surely, but Asami was still the very picture of calm and it made Korra feel vastly inadequate and ill-equipped to deal with whatever was pulsing between them. Asami had to feel it. Perhaps it was those lost years being filled in, or maybe it was her overactive imagination acting in lieu of her recent epiphany, or maybe there was a real, palpable tension in the air that existed on both sides.

“Asami-”

“Korra-”

“Oh, God, we’re so bad at this,” Asami groaned. “I’ll go this time.” Korra nodded in encouragement, gripping her mug a little too tightly. “I’d like to show you some-”

“Korra!” Ikki yelled in delight, suddenly appearing at the doorway. “You’re still here! Asami, hi! What are you both talking about?”

She sat down at the head of the table, kicking her feet up, and peered at them both expectedly. Despite her fondness for the girl, Korra hadn’t ever been less enthused to see another person in her life. Asami had been mid-question, and her nerves were still tingling in anticipation.

“Hey, Ikki,” Asami smiled, clearly at ease. Korra realised that she’d probably been a regular at this household over the years, and her heart ached at the thought; Asami bonding with the airbender children gave her a sharp, practically maternal pang, which she would add to the list of emotions she didn’t know how to deal with. She echoed a greeting and smiled as enthusiastically as she could, but she could still feel the nerves radiate from Asami’s body even from across the table.

“We should go out into the city today! My mom wants some stuff getting in for dinner later!”

Korra exchanged a glance with Asami. Her plans for the day were non-existent, but she’d hardly imagined her first day back to be walking the streets of Republic City and being subjected to stares and whispers.

“Actually, Ikki, I was hoping Korra and I could talk.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Ikki air-bended off her chair and gave them both a melodramatic bow. “Yeah, I get it, grown-up stuff, blah blah blah.”

Asami shrugged apologetically, but the girl wasn’t wounded, and she bounded from the room the same way she’d bounded in, shouting a goodbye to them both.

“Thanks,” Korra said, feeling a little sheepish. Asami had handled that better than she ever could. The other girl was so graceful in whatever she did, so poised. It had been a source of envy in their early days of friendship, but now she knew to admire it. “I appreciate it. I wasn’t feeling particularly …”

“Social,” Asami supplied, eyes bright and understanding. “In fact, I’d rather hoped you’d come with me to my office. I want to show you something.”

Korra took a large gulp of coffee, her mood as good as it had ever been. “Lead the way.” 

* * *

 

She’d missed Asami’s driving.

It was less about the experience – even though the experience itself was exhilarating – but about the driver herself: there was something about witnessing someone in his or her natural element, bursting with confidence, body and soul alight with passion. For Asami, it was this, meandering the streets of Republic City, effortlessly zipping around corners, keeping up a flow of dialogue about the new additions to the city.

It took her a moment or two of shifting around in her seat until Korra blanched: she was _turned on_. Driving around the city with Asami, bearing witness to this side of her after three years of absence, craving an interaction just like this, was causing her body to react. It was them being alone, being older, wiser; moreover, it was the promise of the future. It was Asami showing her the city she’d missed, of forgiving her, of taking control and domineering their day in a way Korra hadn’t known she’d needed.

And she looked so goddamn good doing so.

Korra couldn’t tear her eyes away, and she was thankful that her less-than-discreet glances at her lips went unnoticed as the other girl focused on the road. It was an autumnal afternoon, but Asami had insisted on leaving the roof down, and her hair flowed behind her in a way that made the ache in her chest that much more prevalent. The whole scene was mesmerising. It made Korra feel human again. Her heart beat; her pulse raced. She felt alive with hope and love and optimism.

Perhaps Asami had known this. Maybe this was her mission all along.

They arrived at the downtown offices, which were less obtrusive than Korra expected. When she asked Asami, she said the office headquarters were here, but the actual factories were on the outskirts. It struck her suddenly that they were adults leading adult lives: Asami owned and successfully ran the biggest company in Republic City.

People glanced at them both as they walked inside, of course, some even doing double-takes at seeing the avatar, but they respected their boss, clearly, and they all bowed or nodded and waved in friendly acknowledgement as they went by. Asami nodded and smiled in return. She cast a worried eye on Korra. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t get out of the public eye altogether.”

“Don’t apologise,” Korra assured her, genuinely okay with it all. “Those people clearly like you, so they’re on their best behaviour.”

Asami laughed and it washed over her like music. “Here, get in.”

She held the elevator for her, and they rode up to the top floor in yet another comfortable silence.

Strangely, this wasn’t strange. Korra had had trepidations about entering the city again, but she’d not had time to think twice about it. Asami had pulled around the car in record time, driven off without a moments hesitance, and thereafter Korra had been too distracted to notice any kind of discomfort she might have expected to feel driving through familiar and unfamiliar parts of town. Chest bursting with fondness, she turned to her friend: Asami was amazing.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know,” she told her, putting aside her awkwardness for a moment because this was important and long overdue. “All of this, you made it happen. You picked up the pieces and made it better. The people here adore you. Everyone on the roads has one of your cars. Last night Tenzin was telling me how successful you were, but I’m here seeing it for myself and I’m … happy.”

It wasn’t one of her greater speeches, but Asami’s eyes were glistening, so she’d figured she’d got her point across.

“I want to show you something.”

She grabbed Korra’s hand and guided her through the maze of hallways. Before she could ask where exactly they were going, they stopped short at a door that read Asami’s name, and she paused to unlock it, still keeping her grip tight. Upon seeing what was inside, Korra let out a gasp.

A window, floor-to-ceiling in size, stretching at least two floors, overlooked the whole city. It was a maze of buildings and people; the skyline was so beautiful she had to squint.

“I love this space,” Asami said, closing the door gently behind her and motioning to the view. “I spend most of my time here, actually. It makes me motivated, being able to see all of the city. It feels purposeful, I guess, to know that I’m making products that will hopefully improve the lives of the people here. But that’s not entirely the reason I wanted to bring you here. Look into the park.”

Enamoured, Korra obeyed, then gasped. “Is that-”

“Yes,” Asami beamed, gently putting a hand to her shoulder. “It’s you.”

Even from a distance she could see the statue: it was her, but she was younger, long-haired and positioned in a fighting stance, at least fifty feet high.

“Did you … do that?”

“I did.”

Korra was in _so_ much trouble.

“But the people wanted it. When you left, after I put Future Industries back together, I had a barrage of requests for something commemorative. People cared about what happened to you. I had it built to honour the things you’ve done.

Korra, I wanted to show you this before you saw anything else of the city because I wanted you to see how much the people here respected you and what you did for them, even when you were gone. You are the avatar to them, and they wanted you to know that, whenever you returned.”

The tears were falling thick and fast before she can stop them. Her first instinct was to bury into herself, but Asami was there, right there, gazing at her with adoration, and they were embracing before she knew who made the first step. She clung to Asami’s jacket and let the tears fall because she was _exhausted_. It had been a long, arduous journey: she didn’t know how she got through some of it, truly. For the longest time, fear was the only thing she felt; fear of what it meant not to be the avatar, fear of what it meant if she couldn’t fix herself. As though reading her mind, Asami was telling her everything she’d ever needed to hear, believing it so whole-heartedly, and purely, as though there was no room for anything else, that it made the feelings almost painful in their intensity.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Asami only clutched her tighter.

* * *

 

“It’s only fair.”

Over another cup of coffee – because Asami was clearly addicted to the stuff – Korra rolled her eyes.

They were sitting in her office, Korra with her feet on the desk, doing her best to ignore the other girl’s probing. It was filling her a joy she couldn’t poker-face her way through, though. Asami knew that and wheedled even more. “This is what friends do, right? Reveal romantic entanglements.”

“Because there were plenty of dating opportunities in the middle of a swamp.”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean.”

It was impossible to address the weight behind Korra’s absence, and she in return knew that there were things Asami couldn’t even begin to express. There was a sad tiredness behind her eyes. Their conversations were light since Korra’s emotional outburst. But the truth was, Korra’s thoughts were a mess where that was concerned.

 _Pining_ was an emotion she was acquainted with.

“I …” She hadn’t wanted anything like that whilst she were gone. “I was preoccupied.”

 _With thoughts about you_.

Honestly, it had never been obvious; the ways her feelings had manifested themselves were buried deep beneath everything else she had been going through. Looking back, she had mistaken such deep want for normal pangs of loneliness. It was only since seeing her again, being touched by her, that she’d had an epiphany.

She looked away, cheeks pink. Drumming her fingers alongside her cup, she suddenly realised another coffee was a bad idea; it was making her more nervous, more on edge. Asami was being so accommodating.

“Can I admit something?” she blurted out.

Asami motioned as if to say _duh_.

“I thought about you a lot while I was gone.”

There was a beat before – “I thought about you a lot, too,” and it sounded hesitant.

Underneath the desk, she could feel the sudden tapping of Asami’s foot. The other girl was nervous, and it gave Korra hope.

“I mean …” _Be brave_ , she reminded herself, _forge your future_. _You_ are _the avatar after all_. “I was going through a lot, so it wasn’t immediately obvious to me, but I-” _missed, needed, wanted_ , “-was sort of pining for you, I think.”

Asami could only blink, but she could see the gears whirring – in what way did Korra mean such an admission? Between them both, they were each other’s best and only girl friends. Well, she’d taken the first step. There was no turning back now. Or that’s what she told herself in order to plough on.

Perhaps she hadn't intended to be so forthright on her first day back, but life, as they all knew by now, was far too short, and she'd already spent three years away from those she cared about trying to put herself back together.

“I’m happy to be back,” she said, derailing slightly, but she figured she’d let Asami gather her faculties. Besides, she owed her some context. “I couldn’t have come back any earlier. Before finding Toph I … was in a bad place. I didn’t want anyone seeing me like that, even you, because I knew what everyone would say: that I was being stupid by thinking my worth was tied up with being the avatar. I couldn’t hear that right then. Even now, I have times where I wonder if anything will ever be the same. But I realise that I have to create my own path. It’s all about perspective.” Bravely, she held Asami’s gaze. “Last night I realised that those feelings I was having when I thought of you weren’t so simple. I was pining. All of that time. There’s no denying that. I missed you in a different way than I missed the others. I …”

“I love you,” Asami said, and it was breathy, and unexpected, and even she looked surprised. “Oh, God, I mean-”

“That’s what I mean!” Korra hurried to say, sitting upright in her chair. “I know that I love you, too!”

An incredulous laugh escaped Asami’s throat, and Korra felt a similar stirring of giddiness. It took a lot of effort not to stand up.

“That’s-”

“I know!”

“I was pining for you the whole time, too,” Asami revealed, her voice hoarse, her eyes soft and open. She laid a gentle hand on her arm and Korra’s eyes almost shut, the feeling of contentment washing over like it had the previous evening. Maybe this feeling wouldn't ever wear off. When she focused her gaze, she knew that Asami had seen it all - her eyes were locked upon her in adoration. 

“What happens now?” Korra asked, quietly, reverently, watching the shadows on Asami’s face; the slow descent of an eyelash, the steady, serene curve of her lips.

“We figure it out,” Asami said, and it was the most sincere promise Korra had ever heard. “You and I figure it out. This is more than I ever hoped for, or expected. I braced myself to get over you. Seeing you, though …”

Korra laughed loudly. “Tell me about it.”

“There’s absolutely something between us. Perhaps there always has been, beyond Mako. I’ve always felt this - this draw to you that I couldn’t explain. I’ve tried rationalising it countless time in countless ways, but I could never find an explanation that stuck. Instead I tried not to label it, so for the longest time I didn’t, until I dreamt of you, a month or so after you’d gone. Your absence affected me badly, Korra. I couldn’t understand the hole it left, at least until the dream. It was admittedly… sultry. It was more than that, though. When I woke up, it clicked. Honestly, I was scared. Even if I did have feelings for you, what did it matter right then?

But you wrote me, and I knew that whatever I was feeling for you was secondary to your journey. It wasn’t the right time. Besides, it was a lot to take in." Her eyes darkened and Korra's heart leapt in sympathy; it was like her memories of that time were playing out like a mover behind Asami's eyes - she recognised the glazed look from personal experience - and she wanted nothing more than to eradicate that unpleasantness. "I had my struggles accepting one or two things." Miraculously, Asami drew herself out of her stupor, and Korra's admiration swelled tenfold. "Anyway, that’s in the past. So I focused all my energy into this place. Then, knowing you were coming back, it changed everything for me. I’d learned to live with my feelings for you, or ignore it at least, put my company first, but seeing you broke whatever walls I was hiding behind. I was going to put you first, be whatever you needed me to be, but you saying all of this, feeling it too, it’s more than I ever hoped. I never planned for what would happen after, not even best case scenario.”

"I know something about that," Korra said, absorbing the monologue.

Clearly they had a lot to express, and catch up on, and this was barely scratching the surface, but they would work through it together.

She'd always assumed that relationships were supposed to be awkward, at least on some level, and especially when it came to initiating anything psychical, even that of a hand-hold, but she had been so naive, so inexperienced, because it was easiest, most natural thing in the world when that person was the object of your affection.

Without further ado, Korra reached between them, concisely and delicately placing a kiss upon Asami's mouth. The pressure caused heat to spread throughout her entire body, not unlike the feeling of fire-bending. Her hands rested on Asami's forearms, anchoring her to world, and she felt Asami sigh in approval.

Drawing back, she placed a tentative finger against her lips, which were tingling. She'd thought all of those symptoms were an exaggeration in movers.  
  
Korra didn't know what came next, truly, and she certainly didn't know how she was going to integrate back into the role of avatar, or how much had actually changed in the city since she'd been gone, but that could be tackled another day. This was her tether now. Asami was there and real and pulling her in for a kiss that lasted.

For now, that's all she needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I do want to apologise for the amount of exposition in this: I got a little carried away going through Korra's mind, but hopefully those parts weren't too tedious.


End file.
